Disclaimer: Before we begin, let's say the standard disclaimer! Gravitation doesn't belong to me and if I did… um. It probably wouldn't be as fun as it is now! Maki Murakami does and for that we're all happy, ne?
A/N: Took me forever to finish this one too, I just seem to take forever to finish whatever I do. Anyway, much thanks to my spanking-new beta, Pato San-sama who helped me beta this. If there are still a lot of problems, well, that's because I don't edit very well. ^_^; Anyway, I'm finally going to return to Yuki after this so to those who follow my other fic, "Worry not!" XD I just have a bad habit of doing things. Oh, and I hope to finish Yuki 15 by the end of the next two-three weeks. I have horrible Grad exams, aka; exams all over the month of May. So I'll be scarce then… unless my muses hold Yukito hostage again. *growls* By the way, in case nobody's gotten it figured out, this is a direct sequel to my other (death-fic) The Last Song, so if ever you're interested, check that one out. Of course, you can always choose not to, doesn't matter much because this is pretty much a stand-alone project. ^__^ And once again, sketches:
http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/ryu-shuAU.jpg
http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/TnRpost.jpg
http : // www . angelfire . com/games4/white_crescent/AU-SHUICHI_.jpg
TAMASHII NO RUFURAN
[Estrangement] 02
"Get your fucking hands off him!"
The words rolled off his lips naturally, filling the whole room and prompting faces to turn in his direction. Smoke rose from the small handgun he held up with his hand, and he swept his eyes across the room, sharp, golden orbs filled with underlying threat. Puzzled by the dozens of masks that turned towards him after firing the gun, but not wanting this undeniably peculiar effect to show, he kept a straight face, and his lips were drawn into a careful, thin line. There was something surreal about being faced, suddenly, by a room filled with people, assuming that was what they were, clad in heavy, colorful attires and masks. Not a single face was in sight – just masks, an almost maddening number of them. Slowly, he returned his gaze to the man with long blonde hair kept in a single, not-so-neat, ponytail whose back was on him, and whose hands were holding his lover up by the collar.
The man made no movement, and Eiri opened his mouth again and ground his words out, "I said Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Him!"
He fired his gun again, its bullet slicing through the air and embedding itself on the painted dome ceiling above, and his lover's American manager, who by then had managed to catch up with him. The gun crazy blonde grabbed him by the arms to restrain him. "Yuki-san –grab a hold of yourself," the American cried in his accented Japanese. The normally lenient gun-toting manager sported a gravely serious face as he held the hand Eiri used to hold the gun behind his back.
"Let go of me," the novelist hissed through clenched teeth as he turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of K. He struggled to get out of the American man's hold, but found freedom impossible – the American knew his restraining methods and for a brief few moments, he felt like a criminal.
He glared straight ahead at the man who held his lover, blocked his view, and prevented him from seeing whether Shuichi was in pain. He had not moved, but had merely stood there, his obsidian black clothes a distinct contrast to the sea of colors around him, and Eiri wondered how much time had elapsed since he'd fired that gun. It felt like forever, but it must have been just a few minutes.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and he heard Suguru's voice calling both K and his name.
"Why the hell should I?"
The voice that had surely come from the man had him stopping his struggle and his eyes widening. Slowly, the other man turned his head around, and when a pair of familiar, unfathomable, golden eyes, met his own from the other side of the room, he momentarily forgot how to speak. The same eyes narrowed as they surveyed him, and perhaps K and Suguru, who were restraining him too, with contempt. A golden eyebrow was arched, and the only human face revealed, with an all too familiar facial structure, stood out of the sea of colors. Smooth, pale skin, golden hair, and equally golden, though visibly sharper, eyes – that man had all these, and so did he.
"Shapeshifters—" the man said in his voice, and Eiri watched in a mixture of both horror and wonder as the man let go of his Shuichi and spun sharply on his heels to face them. The pink-haired singer fell to the ground with a thud, and that had Eiri snapping out of his momentary trance and Hiro scrambling towards his best friend's side.
The man who looked like him except for the long hair he kept in a single ponytail behind his back stared in silence for a few minutes before curving his lips upwards into a cruel, little smirk. It amazed Eiri –was this how he looked whenever he did that to Shuichi before? Whenever he threw a snide comment at his lover with that smirk?
"Tell me, how did you manage to copy us?" The man took a step forward and Eiri shot K a look that silently ordered the American to let him go. Eiri slipped out of K's grasp and took a few steps forward until he was head to head with the man who was accusing him of being a copy. "Who did you get it from?" the novelist's likeness demanded, his voice rising and falling just like how Eiri's would were he the one who spoke those words.
"Who are you calling a copy?" Eiri shot back, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Opposing golden eyes narrowed into slits. A blur of black flashed in front of Eiri, and before the blonde novelist could register what it had been, he found his mirror-counterpart's hands on his collar.
"You," the word rolled off the other's lips and Eiri, taken by surprise yet unfazed, spread his lips into a thin line. He opened his mouth to get back at the other man, but was distracted by the sound of feet on stone floors making echoing sounds across the halls behind them, like war drums beating madly in the heat of battle, as they came closer. So, they'd finally caught up with them. They, especially K, had thought it odd that the halls would be empty and dead silent, with no guards in sight. How long had it been since they escaped from their respective cells with the help of K, who was the first one to break out, using one of the small guns he kept for emergency situations like these?
"Stand back, Historian," a quiet voice commanded, and following its source, Eiri found his eyes resting on a blonde man, his face hidden behind a mask of what looked to be pure gold encrusted with emeralds and topazes, standing on the podium at the very back of the Hall. His robes were long and heavy looking, deep green and gold in color – they pooled around his standing form majestically, almost as if it were on purpose. "The guards will deal with them," the imposing man reasoned, his tone soft and even.
Eiri knew the eyes behind the black holes of the supposed-King's golden mask were fixed on his counterpart as he, after a few moments, finally complied with the direct order, and when a chill went down his spine he knew, though he saw no change in the King from where he stood, that those eyes were finally resting on him and him alone. "You have some nerve shapeshifter, knowing my guards are not as useless and unreliable as they seem."
The King took a few steps forward, down the podium and on the carpeted aisle. The crowd made way for him, making a bigger, wider path for the royalty. He stopped just a few meters away from him and Eiri noticed the slight height difference between the two of them.
"Tell me," the King began, lifting a gloved right hand and cupping his chin. "How did you get these forms, and what do you intend on doing to my people?"
The guards poured in, surrounding the three of them, and pointing their spears imposingly to keep them in a small, tight circle. "How much do you know?"
"Yuki!" his Shuichi cried. The singer's voice was charged with worry and fear, and Eiri gritted his teeth when several soldiers ran towards where Shuichi and his best friend were, and pointed their spears dangerously close to their throats to keep them both quiet and immobile.
"If I told you we don't know anything – what would you do?"
There was uproar, the masked lords and the women talking in hushed whispers altogether – the subjects of their hushed conversations undoubtedly their new captives. Eiri found it both intimidating and amusing – what did these people see in them? It was as though they were threatening, dangerous, demonic creatures. In his opinion, only one person in their group was qualified for those adjectives, and that was, obviously, his lover's crazy American Manager.
"Silence," the order their King issued was brief and imposing, and there was complete silence in an instant. Laughter was cut-off suddenly; words held back for later – one had to wonder whether he had cast a spell to silence them. Their King, without a doubt, was as respected as he was feared. It reminded Eiri of Tohma, now that he thought about it, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered: if there was a man who looked and seemed to act like him in this… place, then what was the possibility of this King being the NG President's own counterpart?
The King took a few slow steps forward and placed a hand on a guard's shoulder, silently ordering the lower ranking man to move and give way for him. The guard complied, bowing lowly before stepping aside and allowing him into the tight circular wall the armed guards had made to keep the escapees in.
"I have ways, shapeshifter—" the King said softly and tilted his head sideways, turning to the nearest guard. Almost immediately, two guards came behind Eiri and within seconds had him in his knees. The small gun he held in his hands was knocked off in the impact and the small blunt weapon slid from his reach across the smooth marble floor. The King took another step forward, bent down to place a gloved hand over Eiri's head and grabbed a handful of those soft blonde locks. There was something Eiri couldn't identify with the simple action, and he was almost sure the King didn't do this on a daily basis, "—of finding the truth. You should know them by now. I'm quite famous for what I used to do back then," the King finished.
Eiri gritted his teeth when the King forcefully tilted his head up, and then placed his other hand on his right cheek, the cold silk of his gloves bringing unwelcome chills to the novelist. Hidden eyes surveyed him, eyeing each and every inch of his face.
"You have no right to have this face, shapeshifter," the King said finally before rising up, letting his hands slip away from the novelist's face, his fingers smoothly trailing across smooth skin until it touched the empty air. He spun around, the layers on top of his many-layered robes that were made of a much lighter material swirling about his form. He stepped out of the circle and, with his back on them, lifted his right hand in a signal. He then pointed at Eiri.
"Get rid of them. Begin with this group–" the King ordered in a chillingly monotonous voice before continuing up the aisle and then back to his throne, "then bring the corpses to the laboratory."
Eiri's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to yell at the King in rage, only to find his voice gone. So that was why everyone was quiet, he thought grimly. That was why it was unusually quiet – what did he do to them? He growled when several guards marched up to him and took him by the arms. From the ground, he lifted his eyes to fix them on his lover, who was across the room, eyeing him worriedly. His heart swelled and his eyes widened suddenly when he saw those lips move slowly, and even despite the distance he was able to tell, to discern they formed his name.
"Yuki."
Then Shuichi was forced down onto the floor roughly and Eiri saw red. He began struggling even more, writhing angrily against the guards who restrained him. He suddenly felt emboldened. The fact that Shuichi shouldn't be treated like this, his Shuichi shouldn't be hurt like this, it just fuelled his determination.
"You're a stubborn demon, aren't you?" the voice came from the man the King had referred to as 'Historian', and when Eiri tilted his head to glower witheringly at his likeness, the Historian smiled. "I'm amazed by all this… effort… this… humanity you display," the man's lips disappeared into a thin line as he spoke in a half-wistful tone laced with disbelief, "I can almost taste your rage."
The Historian paused, a long pregnant pause that made Eiri think of how he'll never get used to watching a man who looked very much like himself doing things he would have done in other situations, and then spoke slowly in a low voice filled with raw hatred.
"I hope you die a long and painful death."
***
Golden eyes that had gradually lost a bit of the light within them with each passing day for the past three years stared down at the man under the Royal Guards' mercy. He didn't want to look, to watch this man who was his very own copy, a testament of what the demons they were at constant war with were capable of, but his eyes refused to heed his order and remained stubbornly fixed on his own likeness. He was Yuki Eiri; the fact that a demon had gotten a hold of his form was nothing spectacular, in fact he'd been expecting, almost hoping for, it to happen sometime soon. But he had not been prepared to meet with one like the copy in front of him.
The way the shapeshifter, the vile demon, acted so much like him and yet very unlike him, unnerved the Royal Historian to no end. And he was sure, so very sure, he wanted this copy done for, regardless of whether they managed to get information out of him or not. It didn't matter to him, either, how they killed him and his pitiful shapeshifting companions as long as it was, as he had previously stated with blunt honesty, slow and painful.
"Historian," the voice sounded in Yuki's ears, calm and yet with tiny traces of impatience. His brother-in-law was scowling underneath that mask, Yuki was willing to bet, and he understood the underlying meaning the simple utterance of his title carried. He smiled, and slipped his hands into his pockets quietly before spinning around to pick up the mask he had discarded before, and then walked up towards the direction of the throne.
"Invite me to their execution. I'll be more than glad to attend that."
The silence that followed was ominous, and the Royal Historian knew what it meant; the heretics' fates were sealed. His eyes narrowed, his eyelids shadowing his golden irises slightly as he concentrated and channeled his mind to the wavelength he guessed their King was broadcasting his verdict. He caught snippets of the broadcast, snippets which his mind summarized with the adjectives – long, arduous, effective and karmic – and his lips curved into a predatory smirk. As soon as he had what he needed, he channeled off immediately before anyone could notice his unwelcome eavesdropping and bowed down, muttering his excuse. He tried to keep the excitement in, the sadistic delight he derived from such information which he did not even think about putting a stop to. These demons deserved it, he told himself in justification. They had defied memories – he found his eyes wandering towards the pink-haired one – memories of the dead….
Blue eyes, far from the ethereal, exotic amethyst pools he had grown only too accustomed to, fixed on him, defiance clear within their depths. Something told him this was wrong, and that the image before his eyes couldn't have been what he'd automatically and absentmindedly passed as an error in the demon's part. There was something in those eyes that sent voices whispering and humming doubts into his mind.
'Shuichi…?'
He tore his gaze away from the boy, the cheap imitation of someone who could never be duplicated, and abruptly put his mask on. He determined himself to walk out the Grand Hall from where he entered and forget about this until he was called to witness their executions. He found himself stopping when the sound of doors opening from the other side of the room reached his ears, followed shortly by a familiar voice.
He turned around slowly and watched as the crowd parted to give way for the two new comers.
"I demand their release."
The voice came from the shorter of the two, the one who wore a mask of silver encrusted with emeralds and opals, seashells and crystals – all of which were in varying hues of blue and green—and was clad in equally extravagant and rich robes as the King was. From the choice of her clothes and the long brown hair she kept up and decorated with many a golden ornament, it was plainly clear: she was a woman. Standing next to her, a whole head taller, was an Outsider, dressed in clothing that stood out terribly from all the other occupants in the room except the Royal Historian's and, perhaps, even the shapeshifters' with their foreign influence. He wore a simple mask of ivory and silver carved with designs that marked his status as Outsider and honored guest.
"Lady Sen, I cannot do that," the King said quietly. The newcomer swallowed hard before hastening towards the King's side and throwing herself at her feet before launching her protest.
"But you can," she lifted her head and the ornaments that hung on her mask jingled as they swayed against each other. "I take responsibility for them! Please grant me this that I wis—!"
"You can't let your emotions reign over you like this, M'lady," Yuki cut in harshly, his voice as sharp-cutting as any blade. He took a step forward and glowered witheringly at the woman beneath his mask, not because she wanted to grant the shapeshifters release from a certain death, but because of her motive. He was sure everyone in the room had a vague idea, if not the whole knowledge, as of why she would ask for such a thing.
"It's not her emotions she's following, Mr. Yuki," the other newcomer put in helpfully in defense of his mistress. "Oh, Sorry – Historian," he corrected himself, amusement clear in his voice. He strode towards his mistress and helped her up.
"It is fact," the Outsider stated simply with a smirk, before tilting his head towards the Royal Historian's direction. "Historian, ever heard of the saying "Every stick has two ends"? Don't you think it's applicable here? Hmn?"
Yuki folded his arms across his shoulders and, not one to just accept an open verbal insult, quickly thought up an equally subtle yet sharp come back. "Better the Devil you know, than the Devil you don't, Outsider."
"Enough—" their King ordered silently, briefly giving both of them a warning glance before finally turning all his attention towards the Lady of Sen. "Why do you wish for their release, Lady?"
The young woman's head bowed slightly and she was thoughtfully silent for a few moments before finally raising her head up again and meeting the King's gaze. "Because I know they cannot be what you accuse them of being."
Yuki snorted and the Lady glanced briefly at him before speaking once more.
"If they are what they are then…they shouldn't know me. That is that." She bowed down and folded her hands on her midsection. "If you will let me do this then I shall be most grateful."
The Royal Historian found himself breathing in deeply, hoping deep down for his brother-in-law's refusal. The woman was asking for her own death, and he knew it was for a useless cause. Why did she have belief in such beings? Why was she doing this? He couldn't understand the logic beneath her reasoning anymore; this couldn't possibly be just because of that…. He was sure then that the woman knew something else he didn't, and he was willing to bet a certain Scientist was behind it all.
But 'why?' he found himself wondering again.
"Then I will allow you this," the King said finally at length. And though the mask on his face let none of the concern he held for the fragile, only living member of the immediate Sen clan escape, it seemed to radiate, and Yuki caught tiny wisps of it. The only living pure Senian had been tittering dangerously close to insanity for three years now, after having witnessed the death of all her immediate relatives and suffering the lost of her beloved older brother, and it took many people's joint efforts to keep her sane/lucid enough as to not kill herself. Maybe, finally, the woman had lost grasp of reality.
That explained it.
The Lady of Sen bowed down lowly, a traditional sign of showing gratitude that originated in Sen, and later on spread to the other kingdoms sometime two centuries back, according to records, and spun around. "If he knows me, then I would know."
'So she plans on seeing if he will be able to recognize her,' Yuki thought grimly before stepping forward and falling beside the King. 'Just because she isn't as well known as her brother….'
'Bitter as always, Eiri-san?' his brother-in-law's voice echoed in his mind unexpectedly, catching him briefly off guard. He sighed for letting his guard down momentarily, and instead of just closing the connection as he usually did, decided to continue with the mental conversation.
'Why did you let her do that?' the Royal Historian questioned pensively as he watched the Lady walk towards the pink-haired shapeshifter, as he'd expected. He was rewarded with a laugh that rang in his mind musically.
'There was no stopping her. She was determined. Either way, they wouldn't be able to hurt her should they turn out to be demons… like you…' There was a pause and the King continued without missing a beat, 'like I expect them to be. The guards here will launch at them and kill them instantly the moment they arise suspicion.'
'It's useless, either way,' Yuki snorted. 'Why bother, to begin with, when a much grandiose execution – a fitting addition to history books – can be staged.'
'But it is required,' the King corrected him softly, and shut the connection abruptly afterwards, leaving Yuki stunned.
By then, the Lady had kneeled down on the floor beside the pink-haired impostor and had both of her hands placed on the boy's shoulders. The guards had dispersed around the two, their weapons drawn still and the tension was visible in them. Yuki stole a glance of the woman's sworn-in guardian and was appalled by the apparent lack of concern in the Outsider's body language. It was as if the man knew what was going to happen.
'And if you are wrong…' A voice sounded in his mind.
"Listen to me," the Royal Historian heard the Lady tell the shapeshifter softly. "If you can…" she trailed off, in search of the right word for what she wanted him to do, and continued with much difficulty. "…name me… then I will let you and your friends go."
"…and you'll let everyone… even Yuki go?," the impostor managed before knitting his eyebrows and nodding. "And… what… if I don't… name you…?"
"I hope you do," the Lady whispered softly so it was barely audible to Yuki, who strained his ears just to pick up every word used.
"Alright…." The shapeshifter swallowed as long slender fingers began working the ribbon that kept the Lady's mask in place. Strands of brown hair tangled with those fingers as they shook ever so slightly with anxiousness and became damp with sweat; by the time all the ribbons had been undone, several ornaments had to be removed.
'Please remember me,' Yuki caught the mental plea and frowned in distaste.
The mask was slowly removed and even before it was laid on the ground beside her, a gasp had escaped the impostor's lips.
Yuki couldn't believe the words that had so naturally stumbled out of the boy's mouth.
"Maiko?!"
***
The clock ticked away restlessly from a distant room and, slowly, a pair of tired eyelids rose, revealing broken and empty eyes of amethyst that stared listlessly at the dark ceiling ahead. A pair of footsteps reached ears that were more attuned to the silence than any other sound, and welcomed the intrusion, slowly, like a broken doll, the vessel rose, sitting up straight to meet their owner. Dark eyes drank in the slender form within a simple yet elegant kimono of white and purple, decorated scarcely with equally graceful and intricate lines and curves of deep purple. A pale hand reached out to close the gap with them, long slender fingers yearning to run themselves within the doll's long luxurious purple hair.
The owner bent forward to press his mouth on his doll's soft forehead. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
There was no reply and then he smiled, his lips still pressed onto the doll's skin, "I'm sending you to investigate. You haven't had fun in ages…. I'm sure… you're restless… Mmm.."
"….Rest….less…" Was the soft rasp that reached the owner's lips and he smirked, delighted.
"Yes."
Fingers, learned and experienced, quickly worked on the doll's kimono then, their owner wanting to rid his ownership of them as soon as possible, and he ignored the sharp, defiled cries that sounded in his mind over and over again as his mouth worked its way on his doll's breasts.
End Chapter Two.
Okay, time for responses to reviews from both FanfictionNET and GurabiteshiyonNET ^_^! Love you all, btw! Thanks for reviewing XD:
Pat-chan – Beta-san-sama XD! Thanks for beta-ing this and being an awesome person, yeaaaah! ^_^ I don't know what else to say. *glomps* Get War of Hearts 10 out soon! You have rabid fangirls who are willing to use their pointy, shiny objects of doom to get the chapter they want… I mean, not that I'm one of the—eh… uh. ^_^ *pokes* Post up In Over Your Head soon too, I need more YukixShuxHiro smut….
Bunny-chan – *muses purr* And they love you too XD Taki plays a nice big part in here and I'm gonna make him extra sinister/cool for you XD Anything for Bunny-chan-sama… anything within my reach anyway… ;_; XD And you reviewed twice! I love you! 333333 lol, can't wait to have Shu possessed, ne? Maybe next chapter… XD
saku~ya – I have a bad habit of leaving evil cliffhangers, bear with me and my equally evil muses. But, this wasn't so bad now, was it? *_* Thanks btw! I'm glad you like my fanfics XD! Makes me uber happy knowing that… hee… … head… puffing…
The Phantoms – *pokes* I want KNnM X9! No way, I find your writing good too – it may not be as good as you think it is but has an uber lot of potential. Mmm.. KNnM makes me a happy fangirl and makes me think of how it'll end and unravel though. It's good. ^_^ Anyway, I took forever with this one and it makes me wonder if it's taken a turn to becoming more like or unlike KNnM. ^_^; This is a sequel though, a direct one, to The Last Song – you read that, ne? Piece things up ^___^!!
moonlight2 – Gravi!Yuki will be henceforth referred to as Eiri while AU!Yuki will be called Yuki. It's a good thing I won't have to deal with Shuichi like this. What are you gonna call Gravi!Shu and AU!Shu? X_x Anyway, how'd you like this chapter?
dark-kagome2 – I'm not sure about this one's plot though. See, if you read The Last Song there's not much surprise (I'm not kidding!), I think. And I got Yuki 14 out, so… off to work on Yuki 15!
Sukura – ^__^ Enjoy :-D I hope you enjoyed this chapter ^_^!
So, I'm done, finally. Time to work on Yuki 15 as soon as possible. I'm working on far too many things at the same time and Suikoden II isn't helping much… In other news, I finished .hack//infection this weekend and just started with mutation! So happy ;_; I'm currently reading Don't Eat the Daisies! by Aja/imaybe1, In Over Your Head by my beta, Pato San (aka, Pat-chan ^_^) and am planning to read a few more Gravi fanfics. Breaking Away was updated, making me a happy fangirl too! XD! Other than that, I'm drowning in many fanfics from many different fandoms… *3*
^_^
